Of Heartbeats and Stardust
by Doe711
Summary: There is a peculiar gap between those strict authorities and free-spirited travelers. On the RMS Titanic, Officers are expected to be model in their appearance and demeanor. Much less is expected of people known to have no proper upbringing or manners. What happens when Officer Harold Lowe meets someone entirely different from himself and everything he stands for; a stowaway.
1. Of Chickens and Officers

Winifred Cook never really stood out. To the wealthy she was a common street rat. She slept on the streets, wore rags and stained cotton, no family, no friends. She was alone in the world.

But Winifred was happy, to the amazement of those who she spoke with. She was happy because she was free. She had adapted to her rather poor lifestyle. She lived off of what she was given and that was it.

She took pleasure in the simple things, like swimming in empty ponds and finding tiny trinkets on crowded streets. She always looked forward to waking up just before dawn to watch the sunrise and sunset at the edge of town. She dreamt about the first taste of a crabapple when they first bloomed. She lived for all the little moments she shared with only herself.

But above all, Winnie liked to travel. It was hard for people like her to even get across the country; they would never dream of going outside of Britain. However, Winnie always managed to find her own way.

Winnie was clever. She could hitchhike her way to the sea and stow away on a fishing boat in the dead of night. That was how she managed to get to Spain for the first time.

Witty Winnie was what her friends used to call her. "Witty Winnie, Witty Winnie, show us how to dance. With Spanish moss and apple sauce. We never stood a chance."

Winnie travelled all over Europe. From Italy to France, Sweden to Germany. But she'd always end up back at her home town: Totnes, England.

Totnes was where Winnie was when she first heard about the Titanic; from a particularly excitable man coming from a pub. As soon as he told her about it she knew she had to go.

The Titanic, however, was a bit more challenging than the cargo ships she usually hid on. It was a passenger ship with officers and security. There were rich people and, if Winnie knew anything about rich people, it was that they loved to feel safe.

This was to be one of the biggest challenges of her, well, career.

She caught the first boat to Southampton (which wasn't very far) and camped out for days on the docks. On the day of April 10th, Winnie stood behind a few crates and barrels, watching the first class passengers strut about in flowing outfits and overflowing pockets..

Winnie chuckled as she saw a woman with an overly flamboyant dress try to hide a stumble from her what seemed to be husband. "They look like stuffed peacocks," she muttered to herself. "Indeed they do," someone agreed next to her.

Winnie spun around only to be faced with a red headed boy, not much taller than herself. Usually she would be perturbed that someone had been able to sneak up on her, but she was a good sport.

"An' just who might you be?"

The red headed boy chuckled and held out a dirtied hand. "Fred Davidson at your service, Ma'am."

Winnie took "Fred's" hand and shook it.

"Winnie Cook, pleasure to meet ya'," she responded.

They returned to looking at the passengers. "I bet them coats cost more than me life," Winnie joked. "Nah." He shook his head. "Probably twice that."

There was a short pause when suddenly Fred spoke as if the idea had just dawned upon him: "You got a ticket?" he asked.

Winnie shook her head, grinning like a cheshire cat. "Ain't got no money to get 'em." She shrugged and looked back to the first class, who were almost all the way on. "I ought to leave and catch the back of that boat before I lose me chance."

She heaved a sigh and waved a goodbye. "Hopes to see ya' onboard?"

Fred mirrored her grin. "You never know."

Winnie found her chance when a servant spilled a load of luggage near the entrance door. The commotion was enough for her to start up the ramp. She ducked behind a woman with an ugly purple dress and waited until one of the officers, with dark brown hair, looked away. Then she snuck past the woman and found the animal storage. It was there that she waited, behind a hay bale, for the ship to start off.

She waited a rather long time.

Perhaps an hour or two went by and Winnie was still sitting on the pointy hay, grumbling to herself. "How long do it take for a ship to take off?" She huffed and blew a piece of tangled hair from her face. A chicken clucked near her ear, making her eye twitch. It had been doing that _the entire time_. "Hush, you," she ordered.

The chicken did not stop.

"Hush," she repeated again.

It clucked on.

"I said hush!"

She swatted at the chicken, making it let out a distressed squawk. Its chicken companions were sent in a frenzy and Winnie could only watch with an open mouth as a pair of boots descended the steps to where the chickens were.

"Blast," she groaned, trying her best to conceal herself behind more itchy hay.

The boots echoed in her ear as they drew closer. "Hello?" a man's voice called. "I know you're there…chicken's don't say blast."

Winnie did not budge.

"Come out! I'm an officer!"

Winnie cringed and let out a groan, which was a mistake. She slapped her hand over her mouth so hard it stung.

"I heard that!" the officer said. "I see your feet, behind the hay bale. You had better come out…before I have to drag you out."

Winnie peaked out, only to be met with the officer's face right in front of her's. She let out a startled yelp. "Christ!" she screeched. "What the hell are ya' doing?"

The officer too jumped back. "That's rich coming from you!" he snapped, dusting off his crisp new uniform. "Why are you disturbing chickens?"

"Because…" She trailed off. There really was no good excuse. "Because I bloody want to!" she snapped back.

"You enjoy angering chickens?" the officer echoed incredulously. "What kind of person are you?"

"I don't _like_ it," Winnie said, rolling her eyes. She wrung her hands together as she tried to think of a good lie. "I was only looking for something when I accidentally kicked it." She finished with a proud nod; proud of her lie no less.

"And what is it that you could possibly be looking for?" the officer asked. His face remained impassive but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

She was foiled again.

"I was…of course, it's silly really. I, um, I saw these chickens before I got on, you see, and…" A long pause. "I've always had a love for chickens and I only wanted to pet it. But it clucked so loudly that I dropped my…erm, I dropped my hanky."

The officer raised an eyebrow. "Your hanky?"

Winnie nodded fervorously. "Yes, my nan gave it to me when I was a little thing and I've cherished it so that I carry it with me wherever I go. When I dropped it, I couldn't get it back because their little cage was carried off so I just followed them here."

The office looked at her for a long moment and then smiled. It was hard to tell if it was a mocking smile or encouraging, but what could be agreed upon was that it was unsettling. Winnie's eyes widened. "Oh, I see," the officer said, "you just came to get your hanky." He nodded and chuckled. Winnie nodded and chuckled as well. "Yep, that's all."

The officer hummed, still nodding and chuckling. "I should like to see this hanky." His smile grew wider. Winnie blanched. "You want to see it?"

Another nod.

"Well…I haven't found it yet!"

The officer stopped nodding and gave her an exaggerated frown. "Oh, you haven't found it."

"No," Winnie said, shaking her head. She donned the same frown.

"Ah, I see. You haven't found your nan's hanky yet. Hm. That's just fine."

Winnie smiled again. "Well, if that's all-"

"How about your ticket?"

She suppressed a groan. "I lost it with me hanky," she muttered.

The office, seemingly done with playing, took hold of her wrist. "No ticket, no hanky; I think you're a stowaway!"

Winnie wriggled herself free. "I ain't no bloody stowaway!" she exclaimed. "I'm a passenger!"

The officer took hold of her again and began to march her towards the stairs. "We'll see what the captain has to say about that, Ms. Stowaway!"

Winnie knew the jig was up. ""Wait!" she cried, planting her feet on the ground.

The officer did stop, after much resistance, and looked back with a satisfied expression.

"Alright! Alright! I give up!"

The officer sighed. "What are you doing on this ship?"

Now that she was being truthful, he let go of her arm.

Winnie huffed. "I just wanted to get on the ship," she mumbled. "But I didn't have enough money to get a ticket. So I snuck in and hid back here." Her face contorted to hide a scowl. "But those damn chickens started squawking all at once and then you came back here. And here we is arguing over nothing."

The officer sighed again, running a hand over his face. They both froze as the horn blew and they both lurched forward.

"I can't throw you off now. The boat's already departed," the officer groaned. "You'll have to wait until we dock again." He paused, looking her over. "I suppose you can't just stay in the stables, so I'll allow you to bunk with the rest of 3rd class."

Winnie began to smile but was cut off mid…mouth twitch?

"However! You are, under no circumstances, allowed on the 1st class deck. The other officers will know you're here and they'll probably ask you for your ticket and then everything would go to hell."

The almost-smile was gone.

"You find your way to 3rd class; it's downstairs. Don't try and talk to the stewards, don't make a scene, don't go in any of the public spaces, and don't come back up until we arrive!"

Winnie stood in shock for a moment. She had never met someone so kind, even if he was a bit harsh. She began to walk away, but before she did, she nodded to the officer.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Harold," the officer answered. "Harold Lowe."

He too paused for only a moment before shaking his head and walking away, not bothering to see if Winnie honored the agreement.

Winnie stood behind him, flabbergasted. She managed a chuckle before walking towards the steps that would lead her eventually to the 3rd class bunks.

As soon as she stepped in, she spotted someone familiar.

"Hey! Redhead" she exclaimed.

Fred looked up and grinned. "Hey! freckles!" Winnie grinned too.

"Gah! Ya make me blush." She plopped herself next to him and let out an unrefined groan. "Officer named 'Arold Lowe caught me while I was hiding in the stables," she admitted. "Told me I was to stay hidden until we get to New York."

"That's good, isn't it?" Fred asked. "I mean, that means he doesn't care too much. He let you go."

"Probably cause she was pretty," a man, Yorkshire perhaps, piped up. "Yup. Those officers are big flirts up there with the first class ladies. But some like to mess with 3rd class, just because they can't pull one of them rich ones."

All the men listening laughed, Winnie joining in. "He must've gotten rejected a lot them," she chuckled. "No sane man would want this girl." She gave Fred a hearty slap on the back. "He might wanna try another one before he gets with me!"

More laughter erupted.

"Say, where about is you from? Your accent ain't from these parts," a woman, sitting not too far off from Winnie, said.

"Me? I'm from down Totnes," Winnie answered. "Why, so am I!" a man boomed from behind her.

"Then you and me must be kin," Winnie said, giving the man a jovial handshake.

Fred laughed along with the rest of the passengers. He and his companion, an Indian fellow, went up deck to do whatever red heads and Indians do (normal, human things?) and Winnie followed, completely disregarding Mr. Lowe's more than generous conditions.

She soon found herself on top of the deck with an abundance of fancy looking people around her. She went to the very front of the ship next to the bow spirit and looked out into the open sea. She could practically taste the saltwater.

She threw out her arms and let out a loud laugh. She had missed what the sea air felt like.

"You!" a familiar voice hissed from behind her. Winnie yelped and jumped around. "Hey!" she exclaimed. "It's you again." She clapped him on the back.

"Good ta see ya, 'Arold."

Officer Lowe's eyes widened. "Have you got dementia? Have you forgotten everything I said? It's been nearly twenty minutes!"

He frowned and looked around with weary eyes. "You can't be up here. Do you realize that this is where the Captain of this ship comes often? You're on the first class deck, woman! If he sees you, he'll have my head and either throw you in the brig or put you to works in the kitchen! You'll be thrown in jail once we get to New York and then sent back to where you came from!"

Winnie hardly paid attention to what he said. "Don't worry so much, Officer. It's all good. Come and see the water with me!"

Disregarding decency (and personal space) she pulled him to her side and held him with a firm grip. Harold gave up and looked to the sea dejectedly. It was clear he was going to have a hard time with her. He began to think of when they got caught. Would he too be thrown in the brig? Stripped of his duties? Thrown out of-

No, that last thought was dumb.

It was only a little while of unwilling sea watching before Harold had to go, rushing off to fetch some tea for his captain. Winnie heeded his words and made her way down to the 3rd class decks again, smashing into a man while she avoided being seen by a dog walking steward.

"Woah there!" the man exclaimed in an Irish accent. "Sorry about that," she responded. "Trying to keep me distance from those officers."

The man agreed with a shrug. "Can't blame you."

Winnie turned her attention to Fred, who she had spotted sitting on the deck with a small flute. "Hey, red head; we meet again!" Winnie exclaimed.

"It's only been twenty minutes, Winnie," Fred chuckled. He was sitting next to the Irish man. Winnie spotted the cigarette case in his hand.

"Hey, buddy, me name's Winnie Cook," she said suddenly, completely forgetting Fred. "I'm sure we can be right good friends, and as such, how's about sharing."

The man obliged with a guffaw. "Name's Leonard Kelly, from Killarney."

"Nice to meet ya, Leonard!"

Leonard turned to Fred. "Ya make any money with playing that thing?" he asked.

"Not much," Fred answered. "I play for fun, or when I haven't got a bit to say." He looked pointedly at both of them.

"Play us a ditty then, Fred," Winnie demanded.

Fred smiled, looking down. "It won't be good, I tell ya."

Nonetheless he raised the flute to his lips and played a small melody. It was springy and full of life, but quiet enough to keep attention off of them. Winnie listened intently, the corners of her lips curved in remembrance.

When Fred finished, both Winnie and Leonard clapped. "Play for fun, boy?" Leonard scoffed. "You could make ten cents an hour in a pub," Winnie added. Fred blushed. "Tell that to my mum."


	2. Of Marriage and Captains

_Wednesday night, around 7 p.m, April 10th, aboard the RMS Titanic_

Night came sooner than expected and Winnie sat on an empty crate just a ways from the very front of the boat. She was spread out in leisure, holding an unlit cigarette in her mouth. She looked up at the sky and sighed. "I wish every night was like this."

"Why, hello there," a slurred voice said from next to her. Winnie shot up, inching back as she was faced with a fat, red faced man.

"Hello, sir," Winnie answered, rolling her eyes. She had dealt with enough drunk men in Totnes; she didn't think there were any on Titanic.

"Why would such a lovely mermaid be up on deck like this; you should be in the pool."

Winnie stifled a laugh. "Oh, ya' know, I just felt like flopping around for awhile," she said. "Look, out there is where I usually am." She pointed to the open sea and the man turned to look. As he did, Winnie reached into his pocket, nicking a tin of cigarettes and a pretty copper watch.

The man looked back at her and nodded. "Aye, that's a nice view. You should be getting back to it." He smiled with his eyes closed.

"I certainly will," Winnie answered. Before she could make her exit, a strong hand grabbed her shoulder. Winnie was beginning to think this was a trend now. But it wasn't another drunk 2nd class man. It was, in fact, the captain of the ship.

Winnie tensed, shuffling nervously.

"Evening, sir. What might be the problem?" the captain asked. "No problem, sir," the drunk man answered. "Just wondering what a mermaid might be doing here."

The captain seemed confused for a moment, but caught on soon. "I see," he mumbled. He called a crew member over to escort the man back to his bunk, and then turned to Winnie. "And you. Miss…"

Winnie began to panic. She couldn't give her real name, else he might check the passenger records and see that she wasn't on the list. But she didn't know what name to give. "Ms…Lowe!" she exclaimed in her best upper class accent. "Or, uh, Mrs. Lowe."

"Oh! . I never knew Harold had a wife," the captain marveled.

Winnie chuckled through clenched teeth. "He…doesn't talk about me much."

Speak of the devil. Harold himself came wondering in, eyes widening at the sight of Winnie next to the captain. He saluted respectfully.

"Ah! Harold! We were just speaking about you!" the captain exclaimed. "You were?" Harold asked, his shoulders seeming to slump.

The captain nodded. "Yes! You never told me you were married, Harold! I would've liked to meet your wife!"

Harold did a double take. He was screwed either way. If he said he didn't know her, the captain would wonder how she knew his last name. If he said he was married to her, there would be too many questions and she would have to stick around.

He flipped a coin.

"Yes! Ha ha! My wife! We were married a few years ago. Kept it quite quiet, sir. My apologies."

The captain waved it off. "No worries, Harold. Get some sleep; your wife looks tired. fourth officer will take over. Go on then."

Harold nodded with a tense smile. He took Winnie's hand and began walking away. Once they were out of sight of the captain, he dropped her hand and glared at her.

"What in God's name is wrong with you?"

Winnie frowned. "I'm sorry. I got trapped with a drunk bloke cause he came and started talking."

She followed him like a lost puppy as he continued on to the officer's quarters. "I panicked; didn't want to give my name. But I didn't know anyone else's but Fred's and Leonard's, and they don't have an extra ticket. I figured Captain wouldn't ask any questions."

Harold scowled but waved it off. "Can't be helped now," he grumbled. "The officers each have their own room. So you'll have to stay in my quarters until we're off this damn boat."

Winnie shrugged. She had slept in much worse than the bed of a finicky officer; stables and trash mounds, riverbeds and under bridges. She didn't mind at all.

"Can I get me bag from third class?"

"No," Harold answered. "Ask one of your little friends to get it. You can' be seen going to the 3rd class things any longer. You are now considered the wife of an officer. You can't be seen doing things a common street rat would do. And that includes what you've got on. I'll get you something more decent."

Winnie glanced down at her torn and dirtied clothing. She had never really considered anyone would be offended by it.

They reached the quarters and Harold held the door open. Winnie stepped in and her mouth dropped. "Look at that!" she exclaimed, quiet enough to not make a scene. "Why's everything so expensive on this ship?"

Harold watched her with weary eyes. "Here," he said, throwing her a long white shirt. "Change into that to sleep, lest you get your dirty cloth on my bed sheets. You can have the couch. Tomorrow you'll be more presentable, tonight, I'm afraid that's all I can do."

Winnie nodded dismissively as she stroked the shirt. "So soft," she whispered. She rubbed it against her dirty cheek. "Can't remember a time I felt something this soft."

Harold watched her with a small smile on his face. He had forgotten what it was like for someone to be amazed by something so simple. All those first class passengers were used to luxurious items, but Winnie was fascinated with just a clean cotton shirt.

He sat next to her. "How do you wash your clothes when they're dirty?" he asked, glancing down at her skirt with patches sewn in. It looked like it hadn't been washed in a century.

"I just jump in the stream for a bit," she answered. Harold would've felt pity but she said it with such normality that he couldn't. He felt a twinge in his chest but shook it off.

"You had better get changed. Try to wash off _some_of that dirt in the sink. I'd like to keep my pillow a bit white."

Winnie bristled in indignation but said nothing. She shuffled to the sink and splashed water on her face. It was cold and salty but she hadn't bathed since she left for South Hampton.

She scrubbed her cheeks with a towel Harold provided. They felt raw after she was done, but when she ran a hand over them, no dirt came off so it was ok. She washed off her feet and legs, waiting for Harold to leave so she could change into the white shirt.

She felt a lot better after that.

Harold came back in and nodded in approval. "Better." He gestured to the couch and she sat down. He took the bed and threw her a quilt. "Use that; it gets cold at night."

She took it and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Harold did not answer as he laid down, putting a pillow over his head.

Winnie too laid down, restraining herself from raving about how soft the quilt was. "Good night," she called. Harold answered with a grumble.


	3. Of Tea and Pirates

_Thursday morning, around 7:30 a.m., April 11th aboard the RMS Titanic_

The next morning Harold woke up to the sound of a loud "blast". He looked up and saw Winnie sprawled out on the floor, tangled in the quilt. She glanced at him and managed a smile. "Morning."

Harold groaned, getting up and stretching. He ignored her as he shuffled over to the sink and splashed a handful of water on his face. "Turn around," he droned. Winnie scrambled to put the quilt over her head.

As he buttoned up his shirt he watched as she moved underneath the quilt. It looked like a confused ghost.

"I'm done," he announced as he finished pulling on his pants. Winnie threw the quilt off of her head to reveal the sloppiest braid he had ever seen.

"Me too."

Harold paused, flabbergasted. "What…what did you do to your hair?"

Winnie pursed her lips. "I did it, all proper like the fancy ladies." She shifted a bit. Harold sighed. "Jesus help me." He took in a deep breath. "Listen, Winnie, I'm going to go find you a dress and you're going to wear it. In the meantime, please try to make your hair…" He paused, looking at her hair once again. "Less like that."

He didn't wait for a response as he walked out of the room. Winnie groaned, undoing her hair and sitting in front of the small mirror he had above the sink. "Here we go again."

An hour later and Winnie was dressed and ready to go. Harold had ended up doing his best with her hair, and it looked decent after many, _many _arguments.

Harold and Winnie stepped onto the deck in awkward silence. "So, I'll be heading onto my shift soon," he said, tipping his hat to a group of 1st class passengers. "And obviously the captain won't let you come with me, so you'll have to mingle up here."

He waited for a response but Winnie's face remained impassive.

"With the 1st class ladies," he added.

Winnie's mouth fell open. "Oh!" she groaned. "But Harold, I haven't got the speaking skills or social skills to keep up with them folk. I'll make a fool out of myself."

Harold shook his head firmly. "No excuses, Winnie. You got us into this mess, now you're going to keep up with it."

Winnie whined a bit, but, after seeing he wasn't budging, stopped and squared her shoulders. "Fine, yes, you're right. I've dug my grave, now I'll pull myself out of the damn thing."

She linked arms with him and marched further onto the deck. Harold fought back a smile. "You'll have breakfast right?" she asked.

Harold nodded. "Yes, I figure that's enough time to solidify the relationship, or some might be skeptical. The captain will be a bit more lenient with us if he sees we're affectionate."

They reached the Cafe Parisien where many of the 1st class ladies were seated with their friends. Harold held the door open and Winnie stepped in, shrinking in size as all eyes fell on her.

Harold stepped back to her side, taking her hand in his. "I apologize for these shows of affection," he whispered in her ear. He nodded to some of the passengers and found his way to a pair of seats near a window.

Three women who sat in front of them turned around. "Sorry to bother you," one of them said, a large lady with dark brown hair and a feathered hat. "But are you Mr and Mrs. Lowe?"

When Harold nodded, the ladies exchanged excited glances.

"You're the talk of the ship right now; none of us knew officers were allowed to bring their wives with them."

"Oh, I kind of just snuck in," Winnie answered.

Another exchange of glances.

"Did the captain not know?" another woman asked.

Harold kicked Winnie lightly under the table and laughed. "She's joking of course. The Captain knew Winnie was coming, but I forgot to mention she was my wife. We like to keep it on the down low."

He gave them a forced smile and turned back around, giving Winnie a tense look.

Winnie shrugged.

They were given a bowl of baked apples, oats and tea. They barely ate any of it.

Breakfast went by slower than any meal the both of them had ever had, and both were relieved when Harold had to go. "I'll leave you here, then, Winnie," he said.

Both stood up. He looked around and spotted a group of crewmembers he knew; they were looking right in.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Winnie furrowed her eyebrows. "Sorry for wha-"

She was cut off as he pressed a long kiss to her forehead. She managed to keep her mouth shut, catching on to what he was doing. "Oh."

Once he pulled away, the crew members outside walked away chuckling to themselves. Harold groaned. "Pigs; the lot of them. Lot of good it does them to see a man kissing his wife."

He looked back to Winnie, who was still surprised. "Sorry again; they were expecting something. I suppose it could've been worse." He smirked. "You washed your face last night; imagine what it would have been kissing a dirty forehead."

Winnie pursed her lips, a bit hurt. "Well, I wasn't that dirty," she mumbled but Harold didn't hear.

"I'll leave you now and come back for lunch around twelve. Please don't get into any trouble." He waved and walked off, leaving Winnie torn behind him.

The following hours, Winnie was left in misery. She realized very quickly that she did not have the freedom on the 1st class deck as she did on the 3rd. She couldn't kick up her legs and smoke a cigarette like she wanted. Couldn't burst into song whenever she was feeling especially merry. Couldn't throw back a few cups of ale like she did in the pubs at home.

She was just sitting, sober and grumpy, sipping her bland tea and nibbling biscuits. Her boredom was put on hold, momentarily, when a group of women came up to her.

"Good morning," one said, a woman with an American accent greeted. "I'm Mrs. Beckwith, this is Mrs. Bishop and Mrs. Bucknell."

Winnie smiled, holding out a hand like Harold had told her. "I'm Mrs Winifred…Lowe," she answered.

The three women sat down and were given their own cups of bland tea.

"So, you're married to Mr. Lowe? The 5th officer of the ship?" Mrs. Bishop asked. Winnie nodded, struggling through another sip of tea. "I am."

"How did you two meet?" Mrs. Beckwith said.

Winnie grimaced on the inside, her mind reeling with pure lies. "Oh!" she exclaimed with a wide smile. "It was so romantic. I met Harold when he was just a teenager in the navy. He saw me when I was walking along the pier with my friends and started to talk to me. I was taken by his charm and looks, might I add, and he began courting me."

She paused, hoping that was all the bs she needed for one day but the three ladies looked at her for more. Winnie cringed.

"We met on a Wednesday and married the Sunday after. Our families didn't know about it; you know, his were so far away and mine were all gone. So it was just the two of us and his best friend who died later that month at sea. No one knew so that's why a lot of the crew didn't know about little ol' me." Winnie hid a laugh by taking a short sip of tea, which she deeply regretted later.

All women smiled.

"That's so romantic!" Mrs. Bucknell cooed. "Oh, but you must tell us of your life before you met Mr. Lowe. "

Winnie could scream; it was hard thinking of extensive backstories on the spot, and even harder to remember them for later, lest she get tripped up.

"I was born in St Albans, England. My mother and father had two other children. We were of higher class, so we didn't have to struggle. When I was fourteen, my whole family was taken out by the flu." She paused for effect, and to think of more.

"I was with my friends in France when I found out. I couldn't go back to St. Albans so I went out to Plymouth, England to stay with a family friend. I met Harold there."

Mrs. Bishop took Winnie's hand and squeezed it lightly. "Oh, that's lovely. I'm sorry you've been through so much at such a young age."

Winnie smiled again; she was smiling so much she felt like her cheeks would split. "I've grown wiser, Mrs. Bishop, and that is all one needs."

Mrs. Beckwith opened her mouth and let out an excited "oh".

"Emma (Mrs. Bucknell), let's have Winifred join us while we walk the decks, yes?"

Mrs. Bucknell nodded and turned to Winnie. "Why don't you come with us now."

Winnie shook her head. "Actually, Harold's coming to lunch with me at twelve so-"

"Oh! That's fine! It's only eleven so you'll have a whole hour to spare. I'm sure Mr. Lowe won't come any earlier; he is an officer."

Winnie struggled to find an excuse. "Well, I mean." She sighed in defeat. "Fine."

The long walk across the decks were, perhaps, even more bland than the tea. Winnie's feet hurt in the awful heels Harold had given her. Her hair hurt from all the bobby pins. It was cold out but she was sweating buckets by the time they circled around.

Twelve O'clock came all too slow

"Oh, it's such a shame you can't stay with us for lunch," Mrs. Bishop pouted. Mrs. Bucknell and Mrs. Beckwith nodded in agreement. Winnie could tell a proposition was about to aririse; again.

"Yes, what a shame," she agreed. She looked up and grinned. "But, oh, there's my husband now. Dearest!"

She waved Harold over with more enthusiasm she thought she could muster in the dress she had on. He approached with weary eyes, giving a tense smile to the three women.

"Ladies," he greeted, tipping his hat. He wrapped an arm around Winnie's waist and pulled her close. " I've just come to escort my wife to lunch. I'm glad you kept her company."

The three women giggled, hiding their faces. "Never a problem," Mrs. Bucknell answered. "Winifred is a wonderful walking companion; it was a pleasure to have her around."

"But we'll see each other again this evening, won't we?" Mrs. Bishop piped up. "I'm sure you two can make it to dinner."

Winnie nodded just to get rid of them. "I'll see you," she agreed, wiggling her fingers in farewell.

The three women sauntered off, leaving Winnie and Harold alone. "I take it they like you," Harold said while escorting Winnie to a table farther away where their lunch was set.

"Yes, they do," Winnie answered, pulling away from him and avoiding eye contact. She sat down, eyeing the meal they had been given. Harold didn't sense her discomfort. "It's not much," he said. "But I've ordered a simple chicken pot pie."

He pulled off the top to reveal a small pie, steam coming out from the top. Winnie's eyes widened considerably. Harold, thinking he had done something wrong, waved his hands. "It doesn't have to be chicken pot pie. I can order something else"

Winnie shook her head, her anger dissipating. "No. Chicken pot pie's perfect. I…I was just, you know, surprised. I've never really had a fancy meal. The last time I ate a cooked meal was back when I was a kid."

She laughed and blinked the water away from her eyes. "Look at me. I'm all…stuffy and emotional." She gestured to the meal. "Come on. You have the first bite."

Harold sat down across from her and both ate in comfortable silence. Winnie began humming a mindless tune to an old sailor's song and Harold tapped his foot. Both did not notice this.

"Oh, that's adorable," someone said as they walked past.

Both looked up at each other, the music stopping. Winnie's mouth was full of pie. Harold hadn't swallowed his sip of water. They blinked. Then laughed. "Where'd you learn that tune?" he asked.

Winnie shrugged. "My uncle was a sailor and used to teach me songs when he came back from sea." She smiled down at her plate bashfully "He was my favorite person when I was a

kid but I haven't heard from him since I was ten."

Harold found himself smiling at her shyness. "What line did your uncle sail with?" he asked, in hopes that he could find him for her. He didn't know why he felt the need to help her, but he did.

"Oh," Winnie said, her face turning a deep shade of scarlett. "He didn't really, um, sail with any lines."

Harold's eyes widened. "Oh! The navy? I was in the navy! I might've known him!"

Winnie shook her head in shame. "Not that either; he was more of a…pirate?"

Harold furrowed his eyebrows. "Pirate?" he echoed, then scoffed. "There haven't been pirates since the early 1800s."

Winnie shook her head. "No, my uncle was a pirate! He always brought back things he got from the Carribean islands and Asia. That's how I got my first knife."

Harold stared at her in disbelief. "I don't believe you."

Winnie huffed. "You just wait! When I get my bag I'll show you. My uncle _was _a pirate, and he dodged judgemental arses like you all over the Atlantic. You and your navy." She scowled, standing up to leave.

Harold groaned, grabbing her wrist. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

She frowned but sat back down. His hand still clutched her wrist, softer than before. "I believe you, ok? Just…don't go running off."

Winnie's eyes softened and she looked at him in a new light. "It's fine. I shouldn't have gotten so angry." She smiled again. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me."

Harold tilted his head. "A chicken pot pie's nothing to thank me about."

"No, about this whole…marriage thing."

Something flashed through his eyes and he pulled away. "Oh, right." He hesitated, removing his hand from hers. "Yes, well." He put on a smile. "This is beneficial for the both of us."

Another pause and he looked down at his watch. "I should get going if I want to make it on time to my shift."

He gave her a tight smile. "I'll leave you then." He looked around at the other passengers watching them. "We'll have to do this again." He leaned down and pressed a long kiss to her cheek. Winnie sucked in a small breath, her eyes squeezing shut. Luckily, her tense expression was hidden behind Harold.

He pulled away just a bit, a mixed look in his eyes that Winnie couldn't see. "I apologize," he said next to her ear. His breath was hot and she shivered. "I'll see you in the cabin; my shift starts at 8. "

He was gone in the blink of an eye.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Winnie didn't do much but walk around the library. The 1st class offered a great range of books but she stuck to the children's section. She wasn't illiterate, even though she was a street rat, but even though she learned how to read, she couldn't find the time to care about long adult novels. She preferred children's stories and fables. They reminded her of the stories her father told her as a child.

After a few hours of tirelessly flipping through Gulliver's Travels, the sky began to dim. Winnie looked up from the book and to the sky. "Evening," she muttered. "I should get back to Harold's room."

Despite this she took her time as she made her way across the deck. It was around 8:05 when she found herself in the hall with all the officers' rooms. Harold was just coming out, looking rushed.

He looked up and his expression shifted. "I thought you were coming back before 8?" he said. Winnie smiled nervously. "I got caught up reading a book?"

Harold sighed, shaking his head as he began to walk to the exit. "No matter. I'm off so you should get some rest; did you eat?"

Winnie's mouth fell open. She hadn't eaten; she completely forgot about dinner. "Well…" she started. "I had supposed we would go together after I got back but now that I think about it, since your shifts take awhile, you won't be back until midnight and that's no time to eat."

Harold, looking exasperated, jogged down the hallway and disappeared around the corner with a "wait here."

It was only minutes later before he came jogging back, a basket of bread in his right hand and two jars of jam and butter in his left. He stopped in front of her and shoved it in her hands.

"Here," he said. "It's not much but it's better than eating nothing."

Winnie fought the wide smile creeping over her face. "Thank you," she said.

Harold waved his hand, turning away to leave. "Just eat and go to bed."

He began to leave but Winnie trailed after him. He only realized she was still there when he made it onto the deck.

"What is it now?" he demanded.

"Have you eaten?" she asked. He paused, looking puzzled. "Well, I ate briefly before I slept."

Winnie shoved two rolls of bread back at him. "Here then; eat with me. You can still do your rounds."

With that she began to pull him towards the edge of the deck where they could get a good view of the sunset. She chewed on one of the rolls as she did. Harold, it seemed, had completely given up. He too began to eat his roll.

"Is this what you do for fun?" he asked. Winnie shrugged. "I always liked watching it at the edge of town by myself. My father used to take me when I was little…but he died."

Harold began to apologize but Winnie waved it off. "It's alright. That was ages ago. It made me tough." She patted her heart but still her eyes were sad. "I've never shared it with anyone else but him; not since I was eight. But now," She smiled up at him, "I get to share it with you; my pathetic attempt at repaying you for all you've done for me."

Harold was quiet for a long while. Winnie looked out at the sea and he looked down at her. He only just began to notice how nice her mess of curly chocolate hair looked as it blew this way and that in the wind. He noticed how her honey hazel eyes glowed in the golden sunset light. He noticed how nice it felt as she held onto him, how nice it felt to have someone care enough about him to hold him close.

He supposed he could enjoy this marriage thing while it lasted.


	4. Of Red Lips and Pinching Cheeks

_Saturday night, around 6:30 p.m., April 13th aboard the RMS Titanic_

Friday went by with little problems and Saturday was, to say the least, an uneventful day. Harold worked and slept in a vicious cycle; Winnie took notice of his exhaustion and kept out of his way. She spent most of her time avoiding the gossiping 1st class ladies and in the library. She had since finished Gulliver's Travels and moved on to Oliver Twist.

When she wasn't reading she was hanging down in 3rd class, since she had nothing better to do. They didn't ask as many questions and Leo paid for her drinks. She refrained from drinking more than two glasses, though, in fear of angering Harold.

It was 6:30 when she made her way back to Harold's room. He had told her earlier that day that Captain Smith wanted to dine with them. It was a bit inconvenient, seeing as though it would take away from Harold's sleeping time, but the captain got what he wanted. Who was Harold to go against his wishes?

She took the book with her as she made her way back to the officer's quarters, exchanging an awkward glance with another passing officer, whose eyes widened at the sight of her.

When she opened the door, Harold was already standing in the room facing an elegant dress spread out on the bed. He turned to her and smiled. "Hello, Winnie."

Winnie smiled and looked down, her cheeks heating up. She hoped he didn't notice. "Evening, Harold."

They set to work on the dress, a quiet yellow one with silver embroidery around the chest area. Winnie, of course, had no idea how to get into it. Save for the shirt that Harold had given her and the new dress, she hadn't switched her dress in over five years. Perhaps that was why it smelled like home (and the river).

Surprising to the both of them was the fact that the dress fit Winnie well. It hugged her waist and hips without overexgarrating her bust. Her slim figure could be attributed to her diet; eat when you find food.

Harold turned out to have gotten better at hair over the day and pinned some of her hair up in a wave and let the rest hang down. Her hair went way past the middle of her back, but the slight updo made it hung just above her bottom.

Winnie gazed at herself in the mirror. She felt like a different person. If she didn't know any better she wouldn't recognize herself. Harold stood behind her trying hard not to admire his work.

"I couldn't find any lipstick," he mentioned. "Or rouge. And it's quite popular nowadays, or so I heard."

Winnie thought for awhile. "Well," she said. "My mother used to pinch my cheeks and they got very pink." She pinched her cheeks. "Are they different?"

Harold shook his head. "Maybe if you did it for longer."

Winnie nodded thoughtfully. "Ok, you pinch this one and I'll pinch the other for about a minute and we'll see how pink they get."

It was very awkward but Harold pinched her left cheek and she pinched her right. A minute of silence went by with just pinching and Harold let go after he had counted to sixty.

"How about now?" Winnie asked.

Harold nodded. "Yes, they are pink."

Now for the lips.

"I don't suppose we could pinch your lips?" Harold suggested. Winnie shook her head. "No, I don't think that would work."

She crossed her arms as she thought. "When I was a teenager, I ran into this woman. She had been kissing this man but when she started she didn't have any lipstick on. When she pulled away her lips were very red."

Harold nodded again. "So if you kiss someone, your lips will get red?"

"I think so," Winnie answered.

"I'll kiss you, but remember, it is strictly for the purpose of making your lips red." He said that firmly.

Winnie agreed and waited for him to lean in. He did, excruciatingly slow, and pressed his lips to hers. It was tense, like kissing a statue. Neither moved.

Harold was the one to pull away after only a few seconds and appeared disappointed. Winnie let out a breath. "Did it work?"

A head shake.

"Perhaps we're missing something," Harold suggested. Winnie scrunched her eyebrows together. "Harry," she murmured. "They were kissing for a very long time."

There was another long pause.

Harry swallowed thickly and Winnie pressed her lips together so tight they began to pale.

"I mean," he started, "Only if you know it will work."

Winnie nodded. "I know it will! I saw it with my own two eyes! One minute her lips were clear and the next they were red. It was because she kissed that man for so long, I'm sure of it!"

Harry sighed. "Fine. Just, let me do it. I've kissed girls before so I know what I'm doing."

She hummed in agreement.

"Okay. Don't freak out."

He cupped her cheek and leaned in again. When their lips touched this time, Winnie's eyes fluttered closed. All at once she felt her knees weaken and his other arm was wrapped around her waist.

Her heart sped up with each movement he made and her stomach erupted into millions of butterflies as she felt his tongue prodding against her bottom lip. She couldn't help but let out a shaky breath as he pulled away for only a second and then he was once more upon her like a moth to a flame.

Her lips grew hot as he did his best to put pressure on them. It was all a flurry of hot breath and tongue. She couldn't tell if the sensation of sucking lips was good, but she couldn't find the urge to care.

All she was focused on was the beating of her heart. It was racing so fast she was sure it would burst right out of chest. His hand on her cheek had moved to hold her chin at an angle.

She realized they had made their way to the wall, her back pressed against it. Still his arm wrapped around her waist, clinging so tightly it felt like an anaconda.

Something hot was coiling around her stomach. It made her knees shake and lips quiver. Her arms that had been dangling by her side came up to snake around his neck. They pulled away again for a breath of air.

Harry noticed her lips were already red.

He went back in, nipping her lip for entrance. Winnie gasped, opening her mouth. They were a mess of prodding and stabbing tongues. Winnie tasted of jasmine tea and crumpets. Harry revelled in it. He licked the inside of her lip, pulling away only for a moment to bite at her bottom lip again.

Harry tasted of cigarettes and a million other spices Winnie couldn't think of. Her arms coiled further around his neck until their chests were pressed together. Her back arched against the wall and her toes curled against the cold floor.

They pulled away again, but instead of stopping, Harry went to her neck. Winnie pressed her lips together to muffle the groan threatening to escape. "Harry," she struggled out.

He didn't hear her as he went up and down her neck, his hand going to the back of her hair.

"Harry," she said again. She didn't want to stop but…

Harry pulled away all too soon. He stood almost a foot away from her, his hand over his mouth. His shoulders heaved with every deep breath he took. Winnie was still against the wall. She breathed just as hard.

"Oh, God," Harry muttered. Winnie ran a finger over her lips which were pulsating. They ached, but a good ache. "Winnie, I'm-"

He cut himself off as he stood straighter, smoothing out his suit. "Your lips are red now," he mumbled. "Put on your shoes. I'll meet you outside."

He hurried out of the door, leaving Winnie alone.

Winnie wrung her hands together as she paced around the room. The kiss had been strictly business; they had agreed upon it. But it just felt so…

She sighed and smiled. It was so real, like they were a real couple. The kiss was like a scene in the books with handsome knights and princesses. Just the kiss would've been normal, but the way he had nipped at her neck…

Winnie wrapped her arms around herself, looking at the door where she imagined Harry was standing outside of. He had looked so ashamed? Was it because he had gone too far or because he couldn't believe he had kissed _her_; a dirty street rat he had just met.

Winnie cringed at the thought, remembering how he had looked at her when they first met. She was a stowaway, too poor to even buy a 3rd class ticket. She had lied so much he was stuck with her, in his room, having to deal with lying and taking care of her.

Shaking her head, she remembered why she was here. She had done him wrong, had lied and put him in a bad situation. Now he was just doing all he could to save their asses. Nothing more. He was just going above and beyond what he needed to do.

With that thought echoing in her mind, Winnie slipped on her uncomfortable shoes and joined Harry outside. She was surprised to find him leaning against the wall, his hand still touching his lips.

When he heard the door open he shot up, his hands clasped behind his back. "Winnie," he said, his voice hoarse.

Winnie smiled a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Ready?" she asked. Harry paused, searching her eyes for something he didn't know to look for. "Yeah," he answered. "Let's go."

They refrained from linking arms until after they left the hallway. They walked the deck, acting as affectionate as was appropriate for the passengers who looked. When they reached the staircase, Winnie stopped.

"Just because I know they're gonna ask questions," she started, "Those ladies asked me questions and I _had _to answer."

Harry sighed. "What did you tell them?"

"It's about how we met," she answered. "If anyone asks, we met when we were teenagers; you were in the navy. I-"  
"How did you know I was in the navy?" he demanded.

Winnie spluttered. "Well, I've met sailors before, in the navy. And you all tend to act the same." She gave him a weak smile. "I guessed, honestly."

Harry nodded, impressed.

"Anyway, we met one day when I was with my friends on the peer. You came up and talked to me. Now this is important; we met on a Wednesday and married that Wednesday after."

Harry scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Dating takes time and effort. Why would I marry you seven days after meeting you?"

Winnie frowned. "I thought it was romantic." She shook her head dismissively. "Whatever. That's the story so don't mess it up or else we're both screwed."

She linked their arms again and marched towards the staircase. They descended with the elegance saved only for the Disney princesses, sending smiles to the people who waved at them.

The Captain, Edward Smith, and his guests sat at a table near the back of the dining room. They waved as Harry and Winnie approached.

"You sit here!" Captain Smith said in a booming voice, gesturing to the seats on either side of him. Harry pulled out the seat for Winnie to the captain's right then took the one on his left. At the table were a couple with dark brown hair and elaborate clothing. Another man sat farther down with dark hair and a soft face. He sent Winnie a small smile. Apart from him, a young lady sat alone across from a young man with a large mustache. They observed Winnie and Harry closely.

"Now that our lovebirds have arrived," Captain Smith said once everyone was situated. "Come on! Bring the food!" He waved to the waiters who had been waiting for a cue. They placed bowls of soup in front of each guest, then hurried back off.

Few guests ate.

"This is Mr and Mrs. Astor," Captain Smith introduced, gesturing to the dark hair couple. Winnie smiled and nodded. "That's Mr. Andrews; he built this ship. That's Ms. Gibson down there and across from her is Mr. Ismay."

They both acknowledged with nods.

"Winifred," Mrs. Astor started. Winnie couldn't help but be surprised she knew her name. "You and Officer Lowe are the talk of the ship." She glanced at her husband for a brief moment. "It was so unexpected when the captain mentioned one of the officers had brought his wife along with him. Why didn't you mention that you were married?"

Winnie and Harry looked at each other in masked panic. "We got married at such a young age," Winnie started. "And when I was in the navy it took a long while to get back to her. We were living apart for so long before I was employed on the Titanic; we barely got to see each other," Harry finished.

"He sent me a letter telling me to come to South Hampton for the boarding but I was so late that I didn't get to introduce myself to the captain or any of the other officers," Winnie added, laughing for effect.

Captain Smith nodded along.

"Where did you live while Officer Lowe was sailing?" Ms. Gibson asked from the end of the table. She had been listening intently.

"Clovelly," Winnie said the first town that she had thought of. She had been there a few years ago; it _was _the kind of place she would have liked to live if she were to settle down. "It wasn't much but we bought a small cottage near the sea; just enough room for the two of us. One of those stone ones."

"Oh, it must've been dreadfully cold," Mr. Ismay said, shivering dramatically. "The sea in Britain is so cold all year round. The only people I know to live around there were desperate fishermen. However did you find the funds to eat; sailors don't make much to send home, mind you."

Harry hid a scowl through a spoonful of soup. He didn't like this Ismay one bit. "Winnie had plenty of money to survive off of," he said. "But we prefer to save and not spend money frivolously." He glanced at 's golden pocket watch and raised an eyebrow.

There was a long pause in which Mr. Ismay gave Harry a hard stare. Harry didn't bother looking back.

"When do you plan on having children?" Mr. Astor asked, trying to lighten the mood. He glanced over at Mrs. Astor and took hold of her hand.

"Whenever Winnie feels like it," Harry answered. "I've always liked the idea of children, but I'll want to wait for Winnie to agree. I want nothing more than her consent. Isn't that right, darling?"

Winnie felt her heart skip a beat. She fought through it with her teeth clenched. "That's right," she answered in a quiet tone.

Soon the men were leaving for cigars and brandy in the smoking room. Harry had to leave to relieve an officer. "I'll see you when I get back," he said, kissing her on the corner of the mouth.

"When will that be?" Winnie asked, cherishing the brief exchange. "Sometime around twelve. You'll be asleep by then, darling. I'll try not to wake you."

Winnie hid a blush as she glanced at the two women watching them. "Hurry back or I fear I'll miss you too much." She said that louder this time.

He was gone and Winnie was left with the two women. Sensing more questions to come, Winnie stood and brushed off her dress. "That was a lovely meal, ladies," she said. "However, I think I'll retire to watch the stars…alone."

Before they could protest, Winnie hurried off up the grand staircase and onto the deck. It took her only a few minutes to go from the 1st class deck to the third where Fred and Leonard sat smoking.

Their eyes widened at the sight of her. "Is that Winnie Cook from just a day ago?" Leonard demanded. Winnie grinned, finally able to let her shoulders slouch. "Aye! Is that Leonard from Killarney!"

She sat next to him and threw an arm around his shoulder. "How've you been Fred? Leo?"

They both shrugged. "Not as busy as you," Fred chuckled. He looked her up and down and shook his head in disbelief. "Last time I saw you you were dressed in a flour sack."

Winnie scoffed. "Aye, and I'd love to have that flour sack back on me than this mess." She shifted in discomfort. "These dresses'll be the very death of me."

"Fancy a drink?" Leo asked. "You'll need more than a few with that shite on."

Winnie laughed a boisterous laugh, standing up and heaving him up with her. "You just wait! I bet I can drink circles round the both of you."

She speed walked to the smoking room where a few pairs of tables and a benched st spread out. Fred and Leo followed, attempting to beat her to the door. They collided as Fred got his hand on the handle.

Winnie cackled as she wiggled her way between the two, beating them to the first chair by merely a second. "I win."

Fred and Leonard sighed in defeat, taking a seat around the table. "Be a gent and get us a few," Winnie suggested, giving Leonard a pat on the back. When he groaned she gave him an "encouraging" push.

Fred raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Winnie noticed the look and grinned. "I know I shouldn't be drinking like a man; but you understand, Fred. A girl needs a drink after more than an hour with those blokes."

Before she knew it she was surrounded by both men and women alike dancing until she felt her legs would snap and her heart would beat so fast it would have to take a few minutes to rest.

Her fun went well into the night until a group of steward came, apparently sent from the upper decks, and sent everyone to bed. She didn't know what time it was when she practically crawled her way to the officer's quarters, her dressed stained with ale and whatever else.

She assumed Harry was still on duty.

As she pushed open the door to their room, she was surprised to see Harry sitting on the bed. He looked up as soon as she poked her head in and gave her a scowl. "Where have you been?" he demanded.

Winnie blinked and raised her eyebrows. "Downstairs," she answered lamely.

Harry stood up, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her further into the room. "You reak of ale," he snapped. "And your dress is ruined."

It took awhile for her to respond. "Well, at least I got one good wear out of it?" She gave a weak smile.

Harry shook his head, looking as if he wanted to say more, but he paused, glancing down at her lips. He looked away.

"Just…get some sleep. You know I haven't slept this whole time; I thought one of those drunk 3rd class passengers abducted you or something. To think I was worried." He walked over to the couch and grabbed the quilt Winnie had used the night before.

"You can have the bed," he grumbled. "I'll be up in two hours."

Winnie pouted as she wiggled out of her dress and slipped on Harry's shirt. She didn't protest sleeping in the bed; it was even softer than the couch.

She gazed up at the ceiling, waiting for a sound or a snore or something. Her head wasn't clear enough to be sorry but she knew she didn't want him to be angry at her. "Harry," she called.

No response.

"Harry," she said again.

A groan. "What is it, Winnie?"  
"Thank you for caring about me."

A long pause.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?"

That night she dreamt about a little stone cottage by the sea.


End file.
